


Records of the Past

by C0rgiPrompts



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7258288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C0rgiPrompts/pseuds/C0rgiPrompts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 75 years in the ice, all Steve wants is to have some part of his past back with him. But he quickly finds that finding bits of his past will prove harder then he think sit should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Records of the Past

Steve thinks that maybe he’s getting too old to keep up with the amount of technology that exists in 2016. In his day, the most amazing thing he had ever seen was seeing Howard’s flying car. 

 

But, all he wants is some of his ‘old-man’ technology back (Tony’s words, not his). He wants his record player, his records, his _life_ in general. Though, he’ll take what he can get, and the music is fairly easy to acquire.

 

So he believes.

 

The heavy bass-filled music - so common for this time - serves only to hurt his head, and although Tony loves to blast it whenever Steve happens to visit - thank God he has Pepper to turn that infernal racket down - it’s not exactly something he’s soon to warm up to. Although, tracking down all of those items is probably one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. 

 

The record player he finds fairly easily. Fury gives him directions to a local ‘hipster’ shop, hands over a shiny, black card, explains it’s a credit card issued by the government, and to spend it on whatever he needs. Steve thinks the very idea of electronic money is odd, but takes the card without a question. He questions his compliance over accepting something like that so readily, but chooses to not dwell on it.

 

The records, however, are harder to come by. He goes through most of Manhattan, and comes up with ‘mashups’ to which he angrily exclaims to his apartment one night, “What is a Gaga and why is it mixed with Judy Garland?!”

 

His frustrations don’t end there. Every record shop he goes to don’t seem to have existing copies of these particular songs. After the tenth shop, Steve wants to scream, and it’s when the burden of _having to be Captain America_ truly falls on him because _Dear God,_ why can’t he have this _one thing from his past._

 

With a heavy heart, he quickly gives up, and stops looking. The record player sits forlornly in his government paid apartment in one corner of his living room, looking as dejected as Steve feels.

 

He doesn’t have much time to feel bad for himself - Captain America shouldn’t feel that way anyways, he reminds himself - before he’s whisked away to form and join the Avengers. 

 

Music takes a back burner what with saving the world, and being Captain America is far more important. If anything, he doesn’t put much stock into music for a really long time, preferring the quiet and his memories to the croons of 30’s singers. 

 

It is not until he comes home one day, to his new apartment in D.C., that he notices a fairly large, square box outside his door. Confused, as he rarely receives mail at his residence, he takes the package and heads inside.

 

Once inside, Steve opens the box, finding a note inside that reads:

 

_All your favorites and then some._

 

It definitely doesn’t escape his notice that the handwriting looks an awful lot like Natasha Romanoff’s, but that thought doesn’t develop as he looks inside and he’ll never admit it, but a lump forms in his throat to find _records_ inside. Records he’d looked up and down New York for, for the better part of two weeks.

 

The box measures at least 8 inches tall and a little more then a foot wide, holding a sizable collection of records, and some by artists he had liked as a boy in Brooklyn, but had never had the money to own. Steve takes each and every one out with the upmost care and gentle-ness, holding back that lump in his throat as he sees record after record come into view. He glances at his record player for the first time in a long time and walks over with the disks and grabs a cloth on his way.

 

Wiping the machine down, he takes the first one out, a Judy Garland favorite of his, and gently settles the disk down and moves the needle. Once the music begins, he slumps in his chair, memories of happier, pre-war, pre-serum Steve, run behind the closed lids of his eyes. On one particular song, he chokes up once more, and allows a solitary tear to escape his eyes as memories of Peggy in a red dress hover _oh so close_ to him. Or of Bucky laughing and dancing around him with two pretty dames on either arm. 

 

It’s on a quiet summer night that Steven Grant Rogers, _not_ Captain America, allows the music to sooth his soul and he welcomes the memories instead of drowning in them.


End file.
